The anger from the day before flared up again, but I kept my expression neutral and even smiled slightly.
‘An enlightening experience, eh?’ said I. ‘Interesting. Ben told me you’re a man of your word… and he mentioned that you agreed to pay him $50 per wash, no matter how spotless it was. And how did you just guess that! I have pictures of the car that he took after every wash.’
The smug expression on his face cracked slightly.
‘Photographs?’ asked Mr Peterson.
‘Yes, pictures. He liked to send them to his grandfather after every wash. He took a lot of pride in his work.’
Mr Peterson hummed.
‘Anyway, it seems to me that a verbal agreement was made. And to break it? That’s a breach of contract, isn’t it? Should I talk to my lawyer about it?’
The colour vanished from his face.
‘There is no need for all this!’ – He exclaimed.
I held up my hand.
‘Oh, I think there is. You see, Ben has worked hard, and you’re trying to cheat him out of what he’s earned. So here’s a deal for you. You pay my son $200 today, or I’ll make sure everyone in the neighbourhood knows how you treat the kids who work for you.’
He just stared at me.
‘And if that doesn’t convince you, I’ll gladly take you to court,’ I continued.
I saw panic appear in his features. The neighbour with the perfect lawn and the perfect jeep was suddenly sweating in his silk pyjamas.
He opened the car door, fumbled for his wallet, and quickly counted out the money.
‘Here’s your money,’ he muttered, holding out $200 in crumpled notes.
‘Excellent. It was a pleasure doing business with you,’ I said with a smile. ‘But please understand that my son won’t be touching your car again.’
He nodded grimly.
As I entered the house, Ben lifted his head from the couch. He had a bowl of cereal in his hands, and his eyes widened when I handed him the money.
‘You really did it!’ – he exclaimed.
I grinned, feeling a fierce sense of pride.
‘No one messes with my son,’ I said. ‘Especially if they think they can get away with not paying their debt. Next time someone tries to pull a stunt like that, you’ll know exactly how to deal with them.’
‘Does that mean I have to pay you back $200?’ – He grinned.
‘No,’ I laughed. ‘But I guess you can take me out to lunch today as mother and son?’
‘Deal, Mom,’ he said.
Later, as we sat in the cute bistro, Ben leaned back in his chair, squinting at the sign for the ice cream parlour across the street.
‘Help Wanted,’ he read. ‘What do you say, Mum? A weekend job at the ice cream parlour?’
‘Come on,’ I laughed, piling on my burger. ‘But if the boss gets pissed, you know who to call.’
My son smiled at me and nodded slowly before taking a fry.
What would you do?